Taking a moment to remember all the ones mourning the babies that they will never know.
The broken hearts on the way to healing.
The empty arms longing to be filled.

Are you the darkness that feels like it will never recede?
Read Shauna's true, transparent, and wise words.

Have a grieving friend?
Here is a list of things to say and do.

Wondering what you could send to let them know that their tears are not wasted?
Bottle of Tears is a beautiful, meaningful gift.

Read the story of our Joy here.

Know that there is hope.  There is redemption.  That you  are not alone.  That there will be joy again.

There has been a post that I have wanted to write for years.  Yet for some reason I didn't.

But in the back of my mind it was always there.  I would think about what words I would use, where it would lead, but still, I never sat down to actually type those words out.

I am so very glad that I didn't.  I am glad that I waited.  I am grateful that Jeannett asked me to wrap up her beautiful Infant Loss and Miscarriage series.  Because of that opportunity, I was able write a similar, yet wholly different post.  A post that I could not have written without the stories, experiences and hearts that were shared with me this week.

My original idea was to write a manifesto of sorts, of what NOT to say to someone walking the dark journey of grief.

Sadly, a post like that would be very easy to write.  What it would not be is helpful.  It would not be equipping.  Instead it would be sad.  Guilt inducing.  Because all of us have uttered words that we wish we could take back, as well meaning as our original intentions might have been.

Instead my heart changed along the way.  I grew up.  The goal became more about sharing simple, tangible, practical steps that we all could do when comforting those faced with tragedy.

I read and re-read each comment.  My heart broke from your pain.  I learned so much from each word.  Realized that there are many areas that I could do better in.
Although I hate to put into practice what I culled from your advice, I know that a time will come when I need to.

For that I am very thankful.

A great quote that was shared stated simply this:
"I will have sympathy as long as you have grief."

When tragedy and loss occur to those we love, it is so difficult to know exactly what to do.

The fear of doing or saying the wrong thing often keeps us from helping those who are in need of us the most.

It is my hope that you can take a few things from this list to better equip you to be a comfort in time of loss.

It’s not easy.  It’s scary.  In fact it is downright messy.  But you will never know how much your effort, strength, and presence can mean in a time of grief.

Reading through the beautiful comments on this post, some reoccurring themes were woven throughout.

It is my hearts desire to give them justice, to honor them, to give practical action steps. I encourage you to take time to read through the beautiful and real stories to better understand the hearts of grieving parents.

1.  Don’t try to offer an explanation.  Don’t attempt to “fix” them.

Bad things happen in our world.  Simple reasons don’t make those bad things hurt any less.  Most often there is no reason.  Explanations discount and negate grief.  They don’t bring back what was lost, or suddenly make the grieving parent think “well, I guess it was worth it then…”
They miss their child.  Words and platitudes won’t change that.
“I suggest letting the parents talk about the baby.  I suggest they say the baby’s name.  It is sweet balm to hear others talk of my baby. Listen, listen, listen.  No advice! Hugs & ears.  That is all you need.”

2.  Be there when it is difficult.

It will be difficult.  It will be overwhelming.  Do not stay away because you feel like you have nothing to offer, or you aren’t strong enough.  Your presence alone is enough, and you never know your strength until you test it.  Show up.   Don’t feel like you need to be prepared or equipped.  Meet them at the hospital, the funeral home.  Support often means action.  Cry with them.  Sit in silence with them.  Listen to them.  Be there for them.
“..my cousin sent me a very simple card she made… one piece of card stock, in her own handwriting, it said “I am here to listen to you.” and then in the corner she wrote her work phone number… even though I have those numbers… that was five years ago and I still carry that card with me.”
“A friend of mine called me and said “I’m here, no matter what. To listen, to cry, to laugh, to get yelled at if it makes you feel better. You name it, I’m here” That meant a lot and truly helped me through.”
3. Remember due dates and birthdays.

This one is a big one.  Often people are afraid to acknowledge dates for fear that the parent will be reminded or upset.  The thing is, the parents need no reminding.  The dates are always there.  Always looming.  Even years and years down the line.  Your remembering will be comforting, not harming.  Get out your calendar.  Mark down birth dates, death dates, due dates.  Send a simple “thinking of you” card. Make a quick phone call.  Do not be afraid to use the baby’s name.  You will be a little light in a very dark day for them.
“I think one of the most important things we can say to a woman who has lost a baby is that it is OK to be sad.  For a really long time.  That you will miss the baby always and that you are allowed to.  Supposed to.  A year later, ask her how she is doing and let her know that you still care.  It will help so much.”
“When a dear friend lost her baby mid pregnancy, I called another friend who had the same experience, and asked what would be the best thing to do… her response was to remember her due date in a special way.  She had one friend who remembered and sent her a very sweet card on that day… she said it meant the world to her that someone else remembered the date that was cemented in her head (you know how we all new moms get about their due dates… it is THE day!)… months after her miscarriage, someone else was thinking about them still, praying for all the continued healing and blessings…”

4.  Continue to check in. 

Right after a loss everyone wants to help.  Everyone is thinking about the grieving family.  But as time moves on, life moves on.  Sadly, grief is not so quick to also move on.  It settles in deeply often at the same time that support begins to wane.  This is when it is so very important to keep checking in.  Keep calling.  Keep showing up.  Grief does not follow any tidy timeline.  Often it settles in for much longer than others might feel is appropriate.  It is a long and painful journey, made better with continual support from loving friends and family.
“Remembering is huge and meaningful. Giving advice is not. Let us cry, rant, grieve, whatever it takes and love us anyway. Think about how situations with new babies may bring up raw emotions and feelings. Don’t dismiss the hurt. Hug, check in, pray, and care…don’t try to fix things just be there.”
 

5.  Don’t compare.

Everyone has a story.  Some much worse than others.  But in the midst of loss, the only story that matters is their own story.  Being told of worse stories minimizes loss and pain.  Keep comparisons to yourself.
“I hated hearing things like “don’t worry, you will get pregnant again” or “I had ____ many miscarriages and look now I have healthy kids”. I was never concerned with that. I just lost my baby. I wanted THAT baby. The death was what I wanted mourned not the pregnancy.

The best thing said, was nothing. I had a friend come over and offer to just sit with me. We sat in silence, eating ice cream. In that moment, I felt like my world wasn’t ending.”

6.  Do something.

Often people grappling with loss and grief cannot articulate what they need.  Basic daily tasks often seem impossible.  This is when you need to just show up.  Just do something.  Organize meals.  Clean their house.  Wash their laundry.  Take care of their children.  Take over yard work.  Take them out to the movies.  Send them off for a weekend getaway. Look for a need and step in an meet that need.
“my third pregnancy was a miscarriage. i was devastated. a few days after coming home from the hospital my friend jenny came over and looked at me on the couch. i could not move. i could not bear to get up. she took my children to play….she cooked….she did the dishes….and i laid there thinking “get up! don’t let her do that for you” get UP!!” but i physically could not. i was so broken. i couldn’t even talk. so i laid there and realized what a wonderful friend she was. she did what i could not. she didn’t make me talk. or wait until i asked her to help. she just got to work doing mom stuff. and she didn’t even have children yet! she just did what was needed. i have loved that moment in my memories for 11 years. she was awesome that day.”
“Those friends and family who just showed up and held us, made meals for us, sat with us and cried with us… those are the things I will never forget. We didn’t have to ask for anything or for anyone to come.. they just did! Asking a person who just lost a child what you can do to help is kind of a silly question. To be honest we don’t know what you can do to help because at that moment we feel so helpless ourselves. Just being there and giving love is so important. My husband and I would never of made it five months without the love and support of our family and friends. Be their rock and love them like you have never loved before!”
“In a time of loss, people often ask what they can do to help.  I find that it’s often hard to ask people for help, even when they offer.  So instead of asking, just do!  Bring over food, flowers, show up and help.  Be there for people.  And acknowledge that there are no words for comfort, other than I’m sorry, I love you, I’m here.”

7.  A simple “I’m so sorry.” goes a long way. 

When words fail, actions fall short, know that a simple “I am so very sorry.” is often the only small bit of comfort that you can offer.  It might be the support that they need to get through the next minute, hour or day.  Similar phrases like I am thinking of you, I am hurting for you, I am here for you can be helpful too.
“I think the most important thing is to be sensitive to , and respect how the parents want to grieve.  Just because something helped me, it doesn’t mean it will help them.  Support them in their grief… sometimes that just means saying “I am so sorry, I wish I could help take some of this pain away for you.” and then being available.”

Out of all the questions that I get asked, the most frequent one, and the one most difficult to answer is:
"My friend just lost a baby.  What can I do to help?"

I love this question and I hate this question.

I love it because of the heart behind it.  The willingness to help.  The wanting to do and say the right thing.

I hate this question because it stems from such loss.  From helplessness.  But most of all, because often I don't know how to answer it.

I feel like I should know the answers.  That I should have the perfect three step plan to fix everything.  But even being through what I have been through, helping friends and strangers through similar situations, I often feel helpless too.

I could write a big old book about what not to say.
Because believe you me, I have heard some crazy out of the mouths of people trying to bring comfort.

The worst part about it, is that I remember the awful words often more than the truly good ones.

Want to know the one that tops them all?  The one that nearly got my friend a punch in the face?  The one that still haunts me?

The one that I want to make sure that nobody ever, ever, ever says to anyone?  Ever?

Let me preface this by stating that I truly believe that she thought she was being comforting.  That somehow her words would help me in my grief and questioning.  I also don't think she thought through what she was about to say before the words came rushing out of her mouth.
She should have.  But she didn't.  Haven't we all done that?  Said incredibly ignorant and stupid things without thinking?  I know that I am guilty.  Multiple times.

Here it goes.  Brace yourself.

"Maybe God doesn't think you and Jason are ready to be parents yet."

Say it with me.... OH NO SHE DIDN'T!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She did.  She said that.  As she held her newborn.  To me.  In an attempt to care for my broken heart.  Unless God personally calls you on the phone and commands you to tell those words to another person.  YOU DON'T.  Ever.  Ever.  Ever.  Did I take those words to therapy?  Heck yes.  Lots of therapy.  I am all for therapy.  Therapy and filters.

But I remember so much good too.
The friends who didn't try to answer questions.  Who didn't try to fix us.  Who prayed.  Who called.  Who brought us meals.  Cupcakes.  Sent us away for the weekend.  Who weren't afraid to stick around when things didn't go back to normal after a couple of weeks.   Friends who still remember Joy's birthday after all of these years.

That is the kind of person that I want to be when people in my life are hurting.  I want to walk into the difficult places with them and bring comfort.  Not pain.  Strength.  Not solutions.

My friend Jeannett is hosting a beautiful series on her blog Life: Rearranged that has been quite soothing to my heart.  I offered to write a post about the do's and don'ts of helping a friend dealing with pregnancy and infant loss.  But I need your help.  Please let me know things that you have done for friends, or that friends have done for you that helped through your dark seasons.  Healing words.  Helpful actions.  I have just as much to learn as any of you do.   

I want to be a better friend to those hurting.  Share your heart, your knowledge, your experience.

I honestly believe that none of our tears are ever wasted.

Thank you friends.

I asked (forced) her to send me a copy of what she shared.  Whether you have experienced pregnancy loss, or simply trials in your life I can assure you that you will be blessed beyond measure by the sentiments that poured from Alicia's heart.

At the time I wrote this letter I had just passed the due date of my second pregnancy.  It was a very dark time for me and I was really struggling with how God fits into our losses.  A good friend invited me on a trip to Washington D.C.  and I agreed to go thinking it could possibly provide an escape from my depression.  At that point, I was almost certain that I would never fully smile again.  I took a book called Traveling Light that addresses the burden of grief.  I so wanted to escape from the pain, but somehow also wanted to hold it close.  It seemed the closest thing that I may ever get to having a baby.  During that time I read an excerpt from a different book written by a woman who had also suffered through many miscarriages that really caught my attention.  She spoke of a pottery class that she had taken in efforts to distract herself and how at one point she recognized that the constant drip of water that hits the clay is what makes it moldable.  She explained that if we pray for Christ to shape us to be more like Him, then we can't put conditions on how He drips into our lives.  This was the first time that I accepted that although I will never understand why I had to lose the babies, that God was still dripping into my life... molding me somehow.  During that trip we went on a walk through a museum garden and I was taken with this bush.  It was remarkably weedy, but had these beautiful light blue flowers in the middle of the stalks.  For some reason it painted a picture for me that I held on to for the next two years... that something beautiful can come out of something ugly.  Over time I came to a new satisfaction in Christ... and now we have our little girls, a daily reminder of that promise and how God is working in the ugly storms of life.